The Choice
by Mistress V
Summary: Kirk has to choose a permanent second officer to replace the departing Gary Mitchell. It's a three horse race so far, or is it? And the Enterprise prepares to receive diplomatic guests for its new assignment. Follows "En Garde". COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

A little snip that immediately follows En Garde! The *Enterprise* is still at the starbase, about to leave on its Babel assignment.

Copyright Mistress V 2009, etc, Paramount is the great owner and keeper; I just play with its toys. My work is my own property.

The Choice 1/?

by Mistress V

Kirk rubbed at his eyes and tried not to yawn. He'd been up the entire night, dealing with the consequences of the fracas that some of *his* crew managed to get into. The fact it was with a Federation supply ship's personnel made things twice as bad. It was one thing to get a little carried away in a bar with some locals. Heck, that was how he ended up at the academy to begin with. But fleet personnel, even enlisteds, were presumed to Know Better.

Fortunately, he'd met the captain of the supply ship over dinner. A capable, weather beaten old salty dog type. The man was surprised to see Kirk again so soon after his departure, but he'd waved off all of his attempts at apologies and explanations. "It's not the first time you'll see this kind of mess and not the last, not by a long shot," he said philosophically. "So don't for one minute try to take all the blame. You'll be so used to it by the time your mission ends you'll be giving this same talk to another captain."

They'd split the costs of damages to the bar in question (which were considerable but mostly cosmetic) down the middle. That was still unfortunate. The captain's discretionary fund was set up for emergencies, which included these scuffles, but to use it to make restitution for such an event came with a price of its own. The fleet bean counters and rulemongers would be all over him just as soon as they got wind of this.

Kirk poured himself some more coffee. He'd just come from lecturing the fight participants and the staff members who had done their best to keep the news of said fight from him. Separately of course, but both groups were guilty as charged in different ways. Lt. Smith and the rest of the hide-and-seek gang had been adamant they thought the happening was minor and didn't need the captain's involvement, etc. etc. etc. Kirk made certain that such a thoughtful but ridiculous gesture would not happen again. As for the would-be pugilists, they were all confined to quarters when not on duty. The whole question of what would happen at Babel regarding shore leave was still that, a question. And he held the answer---except that even he didn't know it. Yet.

He forced himself to scroll through the data he'd just received one more time. The results of the promotions examination were out. Of course, these wouldn't be made public until after the conclusion of the Babel mission. But as captain, he was deemed one who needed to know now, so here they were. He was surprised at some of the listings, both pleasantly and unpleasantly. For one thing, he now knew Janice Rand would be leaving him, but that was hardly surprising. She'd go right into the ship's personnel and records division, something she was good at already. So they'd still be working together in a way. But that meant he had to choose a replacement, and he couldn't really go asking Janice for her suggestions. This was supposed to be classified information, and the ship's gossip mill was grinding away enough as it was.

Then there was the matter of his new, permanent second officer. Gary Mitchell would be departing the ship after Babel concluded, going back to the strange, twilight world of espionage and intrigue that he normally inhabited. And Kirk now had a problem. His number one choice for the position, a capable lieutenant commander from engineering by the name of Michaels, was now officially out of the running. He'd thrown the first punch the night before. Oh, it was in defense of his crewmantes, who'd just been called a 'fancy pants bunch of glorified passengers hiding behind their guns' by an ensign off the supply ship. The inference being that the larger starship might be faster or have more firepower, but most of the crew did little or no work. When the ensign continued, saying that Michaels' hands were soft as a baby's, the hard working officer, who Scotty relied on quite a bit, decided to set the record straight.

Kirk winced. Michaels had scored in the highest percentile of the exam. That meant he should rightly be the top candidate for the job. But a second officer was just as indispensable as a first, and had to be level headed and mature enough to issue command decisions if needed. A hothead, even an only-now-and-then model, just wouldn't be advisable. He'd checked the man's psych profile as well. The tendency was there. No dice.

The next batch of potentials, three of them, had tied scores. And one just below was only a point off. After that, the wheat definitely fell away from the chaff in a very sharp way. Kirk sighed. He knew the names, all of them, and all of them seemed capable enough on the surface. He didn't know the men. So how could he even begin to make such a complicated, important decision? He needed input, feedback, from those he could trust.

Well, the ship wouldn't be leaving orbit for some time. So that meant he could pick some brains. He called down to sickbay.

"Bones? Jim. You up for some target practice?"

End of 1.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers as in part 1.

We know from ENT that Tellarites enjoy a good hot soak in a mudbath, and from TNG that Sarek is is exceptionally diligent when it comes to preparing for diplomatic guests' needs, whatever they are. You might recognize some TOS names.

The Choice 2/?

by Mistress V

"This is one heckuva nice piece, Jim," Leonard McCoy said as he handed back the old-styled handgun. "Where'd you get it?"

"I talked to some WW2 re-enactors back at home, they pointed me in the right direction. This is probably what great Uncle Jimmy flew with, back in the day." Kirk returned the now empty Colt M1911-45 to its holster. "I'm glad this new club has started, it'll give everyone a chance to use those old-fashioned skills, like manual dexterity and quick reflexes."

"I'm still not all that sure about the consequences." McCoy shook his head. "I'm waiting for my first bullet wound. I just hope they don't start getting authentic with things like exploding ammunition. But you didn't bring me to the holodeck just to see how well I can shoot, did you?"

"I might have. And you're a crack shot, you know." Kirk gave the physician a smile.

"What do you expect from an old Southern boy? Now, Jim, doctor to patient...and friend to friend. What's on your mind?"

Kirk indicated a bench and they sat down. "I've got my candidate pool for second officer and it's not turning out to be an easy decision. Michaels dove right out when he started that fight."

"I saw he was pretty beaten up. And you mentioned he was the one you wanted for that post. What about the rest?"

Kirk exhaled. "I don't know the next three except by name and the fact their work is exemplary. DeSalle, Leslie and Riley all scored exactly the same, and the breakdown by section is also identical, percentage wise. How do I choose?"

"I'd go with maturity and experience, every time." McCoy nodded emphatically. "You don't want some young upstart running around half cocked up there when things are serious. Or even when they're not. A second usually takes the night shift. No party boys need apply."

"So you're saying DeSalle?" Kirk prodded.

"Not in so many words. Riley and Leslie are both fine officers, too. But DeSalle strikes me as an even-tempered, mature sort, something to counterbalance the frigid and the volcanic, if you get my drift."

"I do, but you sure don't pull any punches, Bones." Kirk recognized the analogy his friend drew between himself and the unflappable Spock. "Look, can you get me their psych eval profiles and anything else to look over? That'll help."

"Sure. By the way, Uhura's doing much better. She said to tell you she'd be at her station day after tomorrow."

"Is that her prognosis----or yours?"

McCoy grinned. "You might say we compromised. I'm doing regeneration on her ankle injuries while the fractures heal a bit first. Darned strange, the way she got hurt, though."

"Oh, that's probably my fault. Gary called me, said to join them after my banquet. So I was just walking in when I saw her dancing, and I waved. Guess that made her lose her concentration." Kirk recalled the scenario too well, including the *crack* when the woman's hand hit the polished floor.

"Hey, it can happen to anyone, Jim. Just be glad it wasn't her head. Though that one has a hard head."

"On that I'll agree, Bones."

***************

Kirk deposited the physician back at sickbay, stopped in to visit a convalescing Uhura and then went in search of a more logical point of view. The computer indicated that Spock---and his father, who had come aboard the night before---were down in one of the biolabs.

"Spock?" Kirk called out.

"In here."

"Spock, I..." Kirk stopped abruptly, aware of a peculiar smell in the air. Correction. It was a stench, and it positively reeked---of oozing, rotting muddy garbage. He cautiously proceeded into an anteroom.

His expression grew surprised. Spock and his father were there, all right, and they appeared to be overseeing a rather unusual project. His helmsman was sitting chin deep in what could only be described as a tub full of sludge. Christine Chapel was adjusting a thermostat while the ship's senior geologist, Lt. D'Aamto, stirred the evil-looking compound. They were oblivious to his presence.

"As you were," Kirk managed to say. The stink was so overpowering he resorted to his old mouth breathing ways. "Your Excellency, welcome to our labs."

"Thank you, Captain," Sarek replied. "I am assisting with the preparations for the Tellarite delegation, who I understand will be the first guests to arrive. I have had considerable experience in dealing with their somewhat eccentric needs. I hope that is acceptable?"

"You mean---this?" Kirk waved at the spectacle before him. Sulu noticed and waved back, raising a muddy arm in the process, which released even more ripe vapors into the humid air.

"The Tellarites live in a hotter and more humid environment than ours," Spock explained. "And they enjoy soaking in such a bath of mud, which is claimed to have therapeutic benefits. We obtained the base ingredients from the diplomatic mission some time ago and are fine-tuning the finished product."

Kirk wandered over to the tub, by now used to the reek. He looked at the orange-green goop and shook his head in amazement. "How can you stand it?" he asked Sulu.

"Oh, back home, we have some terrific thermal hot springs, but they don't smell like perfume. You could say I'm kind of used to the sensation. Besides, I had a couple of good workouts yesterday, so I thought I'd give it a try." Sulu's expression was content. "Maybe you should, too, sir. It's supposed to be very relaxing."

"I'll stick to a hot shower." Kirk left the group and motioned to his first officer. "Can I talk to you for a bit, Spock? I need some advice. Logical advice."

"Affirmative, and I would be pleased to offer it."

End of 2.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers as in part 1.

The Choice 3/?  
by Mistress V

The arboretum, always a good place for a contemplative conversation with your walk, was nearly deserted as the ship would be leaving orbit in just a few hours. Kirk and his first officer wended their way through the paths and talked.

"You know, Spock, that Gary Mitchell is leaving us once the Babel mission concludes," Kirk began.

"Yes, I am aware of this. He is a capable officer whose presence shall be missed by many, including myself," Spock replied with a quick nod. "I taught him at the academy, you know. He always struck me as one who could assume the command role easily, though he chose another career path."

"Yeah, I tried to convince him to stay on, but he just won't have it. Too mundane for him. So now I have to pick his replacement, and while I have several good candidates so far, on paper they stack up the same."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "On paper?" he repeated, puzzled.

"You really need to brush up on your idioms and slang, Spock, even if you never use them. Especially with our guests coming on board. THEY might have it wrong, but if you know what they mean, it could help." Kirk was amused.

"I shall endeavor to do so," Spock mumbled, almost to himself.

"Anyway, to business. DeSalle, Leslie and Riley all scored the same, percentage wise and by breakdown. My top candidate, Michaels, took himself out of the running the other night. I'm reviewing all the rest of the candidates in detail, but I honestly don't know any of them. Do you have some input for me?"

Spock looked thoughtful for a minute. "Before I comment on that, I will say this. A good line officer will ideally have had varied experience aboard. Served in several different divisions, if you will. I do know that all three of your choices have this in their favor. All are hard-working and exemplary crew members."

"Anything else?" Kirk resisted the temptation to add, "Well, DUH!"

"I have taught Riley and Leslie, both were fine students. Mr. DeSalle, like several other senior crew, served as instructor at the Academy during my tenure there, which speaks to his own caliber. I will offer you this. While a second officer is not as often called into the command role as my post is, the ideal person should nonetheless be a shrewd judge of character, be able to follow orders without questioning them, or, if logic dictates, to question those very orders if it is for the good of the many." Spock allowed himself a slight shrug. "I would study their personnel records carefully, perhaps observe them at their stations. You might be surprised at what you find."

"So you don't have a recommendation for me? After all, you'll be working with this person." What was Spock hinting at, Kirk wondered.

"That would not be logical. This is a command decision belonging uniquely to your office. I will accept your choice unless circumstances dictate otherwise in the future. I do hope I have been of at least some assistance?"

"Yeah, I guess." Kirk sighed. Back to the drawing board, he thought, but kept that to himself.

************ *****  
Kirk still wasn't happy. He next went off in search of the man himself. Surely Gary would be able to guide him, after all, he was the one whose job was opening up. The computer told him Mitchell was in the recreational sector, just finishing up a game of racquetball, so Kirk made his way there.

"Jim, my boy, what's up? Can I interest you in a match?" Mitchell asked. "A captain shouldn't get soft, you know."

"Point taken," Kirk responded dryly, knowing his own exercise regime had been neglected lately. "No, I have something else for your competitive spirit. You like challenges, don't you?"

"Absolutely. "

"Well, help me pick the best of three perfectly matched candidates. One of them has to replace...you."

Mitchell laughed. "No way, my friend. I'm as different from a traditional second officer as you can get, though I'll admit I've had an enjoyable time. But all I could tell you is how to judge a candidate on their reflexes, their self defense skills, and their ability to think out of the box---at all times. That's hardly what you want up on the bridge, now is it?"

"Not exactly, no. I see your point," Kirk admitted.

"Hey, it comes with the job, Cap'n, sir. Look, let me buy you a drink. Run the names past me." Mitchell gave a shrug. "Who knows, maybe I *do* know something."

"As long as it's synthehol. I'm driving, you know," Kirk joked, recalling his friend's superb piloting skills on their recent clandestine adventure.

"You wish," Mitchell corrected him.

************ ***  
Kirk was just changing into a fresh uniform when his intercom whistled. "Kirk here?" he replied.

"Finney here, sir. Incoming message for you, private. From Admiral Pike."

"Put it through to my quarters, Mr. Finney," Kirk said. "You helping out up on the bridge, then?"

"Affirmative, sir." Lt. Cmdr. Ben Finney normally served as the ship's head records and personnel officer. "Between Lt. Palmer and myself, we have things just about covered until Uhura re-joins us."

"Good man." Kirk thought a moment. "Would it be possible for me to review some files down in your office later? Say when you book off?"

"Certainly. I'll let you know when that will be. In the meantime, here's the Admiral for you."

************ ****  
Kirk learned his mentor and former captain would be joining the ship the next afternoon, just before the *Enterprise* rendezvoused with the Tellarite delegation. In addition to being one of several VIPs en route to Babel, Pike would also be performing a more intimate, time-honored duty, that of awarding citations of valor to the recent participants in the Risan mission.

This made Kirk doubly conscious of the fact he needed to be making a final decision, and soon. He rubbed at a knot in his neck and started towards the turbolift, still thinking.

END of 3.

More to follow.

Lt. Palmer, a relief communications officer, only appeared in two episodes but at least she had a name! Others, male and female alike, were just anonymous extras...I mean, Uhura couldn't have been on duty 24/7/365, now! There's a real, live ship here, staffed with a real, live crew, and with day to day happenings, apart from all the excitement we saw in eps or the films!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimers as in part 1

According to the _Star Trek Encyclopedia_ , the TOS Ben Finney was an instructor at the Academy where he became friends with Kirk. He joined the *Enterprise* later, despite the problems that arose when they both previously served on board the *Republic*. Now I know there was a great deal of time between their first meeting and what we saw in "Court Martial" (long enough to produce a 15 year old daughter, for one).

We don't have the luxury of that in this timeline here, alas, and we don't know what happened because no matter what, these characters were not in the new film. So it's anyone's guess. I have Kirk taking Finney's class in the same year as his Kobayashi Maru attempts. But due to unforeseen circumstances, he never completed it. As for Finney himself, I have started him with a clean slate. That's *my* version of his character, though I am certain a sudden plethora of Finney appearances will now start mushrooming, same as with, oh, Mitchell or Rand. It doesn't matter. These characters are from the TV show, not the film, so they can be written as the author sees fit, and _hopefully _as their own unique spin on it. But there are a ton of other TOS characters out there…why does everyone keep picking the same ones lately?

The premise I go off of is that the effects of the final battle with Nero were probably a lot like the one of Wolf-359 in TNG, meaning the ships that were left needed to be re-staffed because personnel were lost or injured. To make up full rosters again, crew members may have been re-assigned (temporarily or not), and perhaps some instructors with recent tours on a ship were called to active duty once more. That's how DeSalle (who was NOT an instructor in TOS) and Finney came to my version of Kirk's ship. As for Riley, I have him as living on Tarsus IV at the time of the massacre there, same as in TOS. But it's likely Kirk was not present for that.

The Choice 4/?  
by Mistress V

Kirk met Finney at the ship's personnel office soon after the man had come off temporary communications duty. In due course, he produced the necessary files for the captain's perusal.

"I really appreciate this," Kirk said. "And also the fact that you won't be sharing the details of my favor with anyone else."

"It's all part of the job description, " Finney replied. "Besides, how could I refuse a request from one of my star pupils?"

"I'm sorry I never got to finish that class of yours properly, Ben," Kirk continued. "But things got in the way." Like most of his classmates then, Kirk had been granted an automatic pass due to circumstance.

"I'll say they did. How else would I end up back on a starship? I gave that up long before you even thought about joining Starfleet." He paused. "It's good to be back, though. I've been away from the stars too long."

"I'm glad you ended up on my ship. By the way, how's Sally?" Kirk indicated a holopic on the older man's desk.

"Just great!" Finney now grinned broadly. "Only five more months. I'm hoping I might be able to be granted a bit of compassionate leave when our son's born. Temporarily, of course."

"I'll see what I can do. I know the captain and the personnel officer both pretty well," Kirk laughed.

************ *****  
A few hours later, Kirk made his way back to his quarters. His foray into the records had been quite eye-opening, and led to yet another problem. Now all three candidates were equal in a different way. Each had an issue that might prevent them from serving the office in their fullest capacity.

DeSalle had been in Starfleet for some time. Like Finney, he'd been re-assigned to the fleet to ensure the remaining ships were adequately staffed. Despite having a long and excellent record, serving as both a navigator and in engineering over the years, the man had twice turned down promotions, preferring to remain, as he stated, in the trenches. The junior crew members tended to look up to him as a big brother or a helpful Dutch uncle, but it was clear he did not want the responsibilities that came with rank, he just wanted to do his job. So it was likely that an offer of command, even third level command, would be politely refused. If it was forced upon DeSalle, things might not go very well.

Riley, on the other hand, was young. And he had some issues from his past. His parents and brother had died during the terrible happenings on Tarsus IV and Riley himself barely escaped starvation. He'd joined Starfleet initially to hunt down the monster who'd butchered his family. It said so, right in his application essay. Of course, intense counseling over the years had tempered his somewhat volatile emotions concerning the losses, but he still had a grudge. What would happen, Kirk mused, if a command decision came up that involved Riley and the dreaded Kodos the Executioner? It was not all that far-fetched a theory. A man answering Kodos' description was captain of a gambling freighter, one that regularly ran just this side of Federation regulations. The ship might cross paths with this man. Then what? Even if it turned out not to be him, the fact that one of his line officers might be a bit of a Captain Ahab did not bode well with Kirk.

Leslie was in Starfleet because it had been foisted upon him by his family. Another bad boy makes good in space, much the same as Kirk, only he was even younger than his captain. The job and the concept must have appealed to him, he'd applied himself to his studies at the academy and was a hard working member of beta shift on the bridge. But he wanted off at the earliest possible opportunity. There were three separate requests for a transfer back to Terra in his file. All had been denied, yet another one had just been filed. Kirk had suspected there was a woman involved and sure enough, there was, a quick marriage before graduation and a brand new baby to boot. In addition to this, Leslie was a known gambler and heavy better in the ship's pools, something that could lead to a compromising situation in the future.

Kirk was getting nowhere fast with his decision. Right now, he needed a change of pace. So he decided to review the preparations for the arriving guests before turning in and was just doing so when his buzzer chimed. "Come in?" he called.

"Sorry to disturb you so late, sir." Janice Rand hurried in and handed Kirk a PADD. "But these orders just came in, along with the specifications our new guests will require."

"I see." Kirk gave a quick scan and realized there would be two sets of primordial ooze baths now, one for the Tellarites and one for the Legarans, who were now joining the ship at Ambassador Sarek's special request. They were not members of the Federation yet, nor had they agreed to provisional application, but would merely be observing the entire proceedings carefully--- from their special, hermetically controlled environment. Sarek would be seeing to their needs and opening a dialog with the delegation. Kirk exhaled loudly, as though breathing away an unpleasant smell.

"Something wrong?"

"No, just the joys of command." Kirk nodded at a chair. "Do you have a minute? I'd like to ask your advice on something."

"Sure. It's been a long day, I'm glad for the chance to sit down, sir." Rand took a chair opposite Kirk, dimpling as she did so. "What can I help you with?"

"You have, what, three brothers, don't you?" Kirk asked.

"Don't remind me, but yes, I do." Janice sighed. "All born a year or so apart, starting a good 8 years after I was. When dad and mom got home from their last tour of duty, things really started hopping. I was so glad to get out of that adolescent nightmare back home." Then her expression softened. "I miss them, though. They'll be all grown up when I see them next."

"I understand, yeoman, believe me." Kirk had a new nephew he'd still not seen---who was already talking. "But tell me. How did you---or your parents, for that matter---choose between them if you needed to?"

"Oh that's easy. It was either the loudest one, the most persistent one or the one who made you feel the most guilty. And they played those roles interchangeably, the perfect team tag. Drove my parents crazy, me too. It always came down to the last Popsicle, and then it'd backfire somehow."

"Popsicle?" Kirk's mouth watered. He hadn't had one of those in years.

"Say there was one left. If the loudest one got it, he'd gobble it down and then go crying to my parents because he had a bellyache. The persistent one would wave it around at the other two and it'd usually fall to the ground, so no one got it. And the puppy dog eyes one would feel so guilty about getting it, he'd give it back. My parents gave up after awhile."

"So who got the Popsicle?" Kirk persisted, intrigued at the analogy.

"Why, I did of course! I was the one quietly lurking nearby, watching the show play out. Sometimes it pays to be a silent observer." Rand got up, her smile sly even as she stifled a yawn. "If that's all? I hope it helped."

"It did indeed." Kirk would be genuinely sorry to see Rand move up the promotions ladder, but was happy for her nonetheless.

He finished reading through the latest dispatch from Starfleet, then turned in, pleased with himself at figuring out (with some help) who would get the Popsicle.

End of 4, more to follow.

All we know about Janice Rand is that she was Kirk's yeoman (which is odd in itself, that suggests an enlisted-type rank and yet we never met any of those folks on a regular basis). I presume these crewpeople, like most military, went through a boot camp and basic training, and eventually were assigned to duty somewhere. After all, whoever heard of a ship entirely composed of officers? We met Crewman First Class Simon Tarses in TNG's "The Drumhead", which indicates such personnel are part of a starship's contingent, though also states an application to Starfleet is involved---perhaps akin to enlistment.

A cut scene from TOS's "Miri" shows THAT Janice Rand to be 24--and disenchanted with her lot in life. But she ends up an officer on a starship eventually! My version of Janice is likewise young and plans to work her way up from the bottom, eventually ending up in an administrative role in Starfleet, as both her parents did before her. She enlisted.

We met the Legarans in TNG's "Sarek"; negotiations for the treaty there had been ongoing for nearly a century. They also like, er, mud type slime baths.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimers as in part 1.

_**Author's Notes: I gave Lt. D'Amato the first name of John, he did not have one in TOS. We met Ensign O'Rourke in an earlier fic of mine, she's from Ireland. As for the commendation given to Kirk in the film, it wasn't really specified as to the type. So for the purposes of this (and recent past) fic, I have invented my own category. We first learned of the concept of a "Captain's Yacht" in TNG, but I am adapting it for this time frame as a specialty type of shuttle that transports special guests in comfort. And we know from ENT that Tellarites like to trade good, acerbic insults as part of the greeting process.**_

The Choice 5/5  
by Mistress V

Admiral Pike's special shuttleyacht rendezvoused with the *Enterprise* right on schedule. Kirk was pleased to see his mentor walk onto his ship unaided and in fine health.

The first order of the day was an informal, but no less solemn, ceremony. In keeping with the clandestine nature of the recent Risan operation, only those who participated were present, along with Pike.

"Even the simplest of assignments have the capability of becoming far more complex, of affecting the entire Federation as we know it...even beyond. Remember the butterfly's wings." Pike paused to smile at those few assembled.

"Although the initial assignment each of you undertook seemed unimportant at the outset. it soon became apparent more was at stake. You all risked your lives, and thanks to your actions, we thwarted a suspected terrorist cell that was set to disrupt the upcoming Babel proceedings. So on behalf of a grateful Federation, it is my pleasure to bestow upon you the special Starfleet commendation for bravery outside the call of duty."

************ *  
Back in her quarters, Christine gazed at her medal. The jeweled facets sparkled, a stark contrast to the actual events that caused it to be awarded. Her fingers touched the shimmering glass and metal. This wouldn't be seeing the light of day much, thank heavens, as she was rarely called to formal functions. Too much pomp and circumstance for her liking, anyway.

She'd also learned the Risan government offered all of the agents involved a free holiday at a later date, all expenses paid. She hoped that she'd be able to meet up with her fellow female operatives for a reunion vacation.

Her intercom chirped. "Chapel here?" she replied.

"It's Bridget," Ensign O'Rourke said, obviously amused. "That biological soup you ordered up is steaming away like an old-fashioned whiskey still. And the stench is horrid. Bring a clothes peg for your nose---if you can find one!"

"I'll be right down. Sounds like the correct mixture for the Legarans." Christine put away her bauble and made her way to the biochem labs.

************ ******

"How's the Ambassador?" Kirk asked Pike, when they both had a moment to catch their collective breath over some brandy after the Tellarite delegation was safely aboard.

"He was complaining of a backache, so he went straight to the mud bath. I suppose we'll hear from him soon, the official reception is just in a few hours."

"I guess I'll be forced to hear it firsthand." Kirk hated formal receptions, largely due to the cut of his dress uniform, but he accepted them as part of the command dance.

Pike switched topics. "So, who will be replacing Gary?" he said.

"It was a tough decision, Chris. I was really stumped---how do you choose between three identically qualified people?"

"Knowing you, you probably closed your eyes and pointed," the admiral said with a laugh.

"Not this time. I asked the right folks for their input and then made an informed choice."

"Jim Kirk? ASKING for advice?" Pike raised an eyebrow, in an uncanny imitation of Spock.

"It's part of the growth process, I guess," Kirk replied with a shrug. "I had to learn it wasn't a sign of weakness to rely on other people's input and help."

"Good. Let's hope it continues." Pike was obviously pleased by this. "And the winner is?"

"Ben Finney. When promotions come out, he's officially be Commander Finney. He was actually my number 4 candidate but it turned out he was the best qualified of them all. I talked to him earlier, he's pleased. And he'll start easing into the role during the next days when it gets busy around here. Unofficially, of course. "

Pike nodded. "Ben's a good man, a fine officer. I think you did well by choosing him. And it's good to see he's managed to find happiness again with Sally."

"Yes, the shuttle accident that took Beth and Janine was a real blow to him. I remember what he was like back when I took his class. Just a colorless shadow. The only thing that kept him going was teaching us---the incorrigibles, as he used to say." Kirk shook his head. "I'm glad he's with us. It'll make the rest of our missions run a little smoother."

"Then here's to those missions," Pike said raising his glass. "May they always be exciting, at least."

"Not TOO exciting, I hope!" Kirk added with a grin.

************ ********  
Christine stepped out of the shower and toweled off. She gave a sniff to her skin, happy that the odors she'd been immersed in didn't stand up to a good old scrubbing. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of getting into those vats of what smelled like sewage. By comparison, the Tellarite mud bath was a fine perfume.

The evening was about to unfold and she planned on doing absolutely nothing but engaging in the lost art of relaxation. She tied a loose knit robe around herself and wandered over to her bookshelf, scanning the vids there. Her musings were halted by the chirp of her intercom. Now what? she thought.

"Chapel here?"

"Spock here. I am sorry to interrupt your off-duty time but your presence is required at this evening's reception."

"My presence is required at the reception?" she repeated.

"I believe I just stated that." Spock paused. Was he amused or annoyed? Christine couldn't tell.

"Yes, sir." A tiny sigh escaped her. "May I ask why?" The thought of trussing herself up in that dress monstrosity made Christine's stomach knot.

"Indeed you may. His Excellency, Ambassador Gav, made the request personally. He apparently was so taken with the mud bath prepared for the Tellarite delegation that he wishes to thank you personally."

"Me?" Christine was puzzled now. "But it wasn't just me. Lt. D'Amato, Ensign O'Rourke, they helped, too. "

"Understood. They are likewise attending," Spock explained patiently. "The reception commences in twenty-eight minutes. Someone shall be along to escort you presently. Is there time enough for you to prepare yourself?"

Christine drew her robe more tightly around herself, conscious she wore nothing beneath its loose folds. It did not matter that the intercom had no viewscreen, she still felt…odd. "Yes, sir, I'll be ready. Chapel out."

************ ***  
"Come in!" Christine replied to the buzzer's chime, fully expecting John D'Amato to be on the other side of her door. After all, it was only logical he be accompanying her. She finished fiddling with a loose strand of her up-do and was surprised to find Spock's image appear in the corner of her mirror.

"Good evening," he said pleasantly, his gaze taking in her dress-uniformed figure. "I see you have managed to prepare yourself most adequately."

"Thank you, sir. But why are you here? When you said someone would be along to escort me, I presumed you meant Lt. D'Amato." There hadn't been any real interaction between them since the other night so Christine was still cautious about deciding precisely what their relationship now was,

"The Lieutenant is escorting Ensign O'Rourke, since their quarters are on the same deck. As I was closer to your own cabin, I elected to call for you. Is this acceptable?" His eyebrow raised a fraction, as if asking a question.

"Certainly." Christine smoothed down her uniform one final time. "I guess we'd better get going."

"You are forgetting something, are you not?" Spock picked up the medal case from her desk and opened it. "May I?" he continued.

"Please. I just I have to get used to wearing it." She glanced at Spock's dress tunic, which had several other awards clustered around his most recent one.

"That will come with time," he replied matter-of factly.

His long fingers made quick work of the task. Then he let his hand reach up to stroke her chin. "You look quite fetching this evening, Christine," he said, his voice low. "It is my honor to attend with you. Remember that." And then he gave her a kiss, brief but filled with the promise of more to come later.

************ *  
"Mr. Ambassador, may I present Lt. Chapel. Not only is she our head nurse, she oversaw the preparation of the bath you availed yourself of earlier," Kirk said as he made formal introductions.

"Did you find it to your liking?" she asked tentatively, wondering with the man would say.

Gav shrugged luxuriously. "I've seen bigger puddles," he replied evenly.

"And I've heard the mud is supposed to have beautifying effects," she retorted. "But I can see this is just another ridiculous rumor."

"HA!" The Ambassador laughed heartily. "Captain, you have a fine crewmember there." He pointed at Christine. "Come along and meet my wife, my dear. She has been complaining of a sinus problem and that incompetent physician of ours cannot seem to cure it."

Christine allowed herself to be led off, with a happy shrug in Spock's general direction. He nodded thoughtfully, pleased she was so adept at holding her own in such a setting. His father and Gav had been sparring partners for years and he knew the Tellarite did not take to others so quickly unless he genuinely liked them.

As for himself, he genuinely liked Christine already.

************ ***  
"Good evening, Mr. Mericor," the proconsul's aide said to the man on his viewscreen. "What news have you?"

"The bait worked, just as we hoped it would. Now we can put the main plan into action. I will be aboard the *Enterprise* in a day or so, when the delegation joins her. From there I can...proceed. "

"Good. I shall inform the Proconsul of your progress. I trust...it will be quick?"

"Let's say Kirk won't know what hit him or his precious ship."

"And the Vulcan?"

"He'll be joining his former homeworld very soon."

"Excellent."

Mericor signed off and returned to his work. He rubbed his hands together, anticipating what was to play out.

It was payback time, Jimmy boy, plain and simple.

The End....for now!


End file.
